


Edges Haze

by Astrarian



Series: Writer's Month, August 2020 [28]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Writer's Month 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrarian/pseuds/Astrarian
Summary: Rachel never hesitated to encourage Chloe to rest her legs or her head or whatever on her. She wouldn’t have hesitated to offer the same to Max, either. They would have been such great friends.(Writer's month 2020 - Day 28: fantasy)
Relationships: Rachel Amber/Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Series: Writer's Month, August 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861909
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Edges Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Title from and vaguely inspired by 'Substitute' by Peggy Sue.

Oregon really is full of forests. Chloe’s lost count of the number of times she’s pulled off the road so she can stretch her legs and such while surrounded by trees.

Crouching, she wipes her hands on the bottoms of her jeans. As she stands up fully, she lifts her arms high over her head, then pops each hip out, and listens to the wind rustling through the leaves. Even when there’s no breeze on the ground, there is higher up. It’s never actually silent in the woods. There’s a stillness that lingers underneath like a weight, though, in the air stifled beneath the trees.

Turns out driving around Arcadia Bay never really prepared Chloe for the uncomfortable reality of being the only driver on a long road trip: tedious, achy, and full of the same kind of underlying quiet that’s never quite concealed even if music is playing. She and Max initially took turns to pick music, but soon enough they ran out of choice, and now they don’t bother half the time.

When the break is for reasons other than food, it’s more convenient to pull off the road than wait for the next roadside diner or gas stop. They do stop at a lot of those, simply for the food or for the gas—rarely for the people. In fact, they probably haven’t had a real conversation with each other for three days, and not with anyone other than each other for a week. They don’t know what to say, somehow.

They’re both suffering from shock or something, probably. Knowing it doesn’t change it. She just grips Max’s hand tighter at night if she whimpers, usually finds Max doing the same for her when she wakes herself up. 

She wanders back towards the truck. She doesn’t go far unless Max does. Max hadn’t gotten out at all this time around.

Chloe knows it’s not fine. They’re not fine. She hasn’t screamed at the trees yet, but she wants to. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. She’d rather be not fine with Max than with anyone else in the world. Anyone alive, that is.

As she gets closer, she looks into the cab and idly takes note of Max’s feet up on the bench seat. One leg is stretched out towards Chloe’s spot. Her other knee is folded up, and she’s resting her elbow on it, while her head is tipped back against the window.

Today, for no reason (because Max has often extended her body into that space that exists between her seat and Chloe’s), it reminds Chloe of Rachel. It makes her remember how it felt to rest her legs on someone else’s lap, and how it felt to be rested on in turn.

Rachel never hesitated to encourage Chloe to rest her legs or her head or whatever on her. She wouldn’t have hesitated to offer the same to Max, either.

They would have been such great friends.

Chloe pauses, just looking for a moment. Squinting blurs all of the edges of the world together, turns Max’s shape into that of any person. It helps Chloe to imagine Rachel sitting in the cab alongside Max, even though she can’t fully envision how it would look for real. Won’t ever be able to see that.

Rachel would sit by the door, in Max’s spot, because that was her seat first. Max would be in the middle, because… she’s Max. She doesn’t need protecting. Not at all. But…

Rachel would spread her hands, inviting Max to share her woes. Max would get that startled look that’s so Max for a moment. Maybe she’d look to Chloe in the driver’s seat for reassurance. Or maybe she’d just give in after Rachel more firmly emphasised her gesture.

 _You can lean on me_ , is what Rachel would mean, even though she wouldn’t say it like that.

And if Max leaned her head on Rachel’s shoulder, Rachel would probably tilt hers towards her so she could hear Max talking. Chloe would look over. Depending on what Max said, she might tell them to break it up, or she might leave them be.

She’d probably feel a little jealous either way.

But Max might touch Chloe’s knee briefly, or Rachel might shoot a vaguely reprimanding look at Chloe over Max’s head, and Chloe would remember how lucky she is to have both her best friends, and that they’re friends with each other. Lucky that Rachel…

Chloe blinks rapidly and clears her throat of a growing lump, chasing away the urge to cry.

Lucky. If only. Something she’s never really been, even now. 

When Max lifts her head and looks out of the front windshield, her eyes searching for—and finding—Chloe over all else, Chloe bounces on her toes briefly and finishes her trip back to the cab. The door creaks as she opens it.

Max withdraws her outstretched foot, tucking her knees together. Chloe slides in and shuts the door behind her. She puts her hands on the steering wheel but doesn’t immediately go for the key in the ignition. Max’s forehead starts to furrow after a minute.

“What?” she asks softly.

Chloe still doesn’t know what to say. There are too many answers. She tries to imagine what Rachel would say. That phantom in her mind just shoots her another reprimanding look.

“I don’t know,” Chloe answers. “Everything.”

She takes her hands off the wheel and leans across to take Max’s calves in her hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Me and Rach would do this sometimes,” she says, pulling Max’s legs straight, tucking her feet in her lap.

“My shoes are gross,” Max says.

“I’ll live,” Chloe says. Neither of them flinch, but the words sink between them like the heavy air under the trees. She lives. Max lives. Rachel doesn’t.

Chloe wishes it was different.

**Author's Note:**

> Having just a few days off made it hard to sit down and write. Starting is the hardest part sometimes - though actually coming up with an ending is also hard and not something I think I achieved here.


End file.
